v u l v a l i c i o u s
it comes in waves
i try to do it quietly off in a corner. hate myself i mean. but it's persistent, and persistent things get noticed. they get louder and louder until you can't not hear them.
and apparently it comes in waves, unrelated to anything that i can understand. but it's obvious. waves and waves and waves, one day subsiding and letting me breathe and the next just washing over me until i'm all underwater and gasping and choking and hating the way it feels.
what's funny is that i don't ever hate my physical self. it's been a long time since i've really looked at my body and thought: i hate this thing.
instead it's everything inside of me. it's the way i do things, or don't.
right now i hate the way i try to make everyone happy. i hate myself for thinking anything i do could be the right thing, and i hate myself for thinking i am doing anything wrong.
i meta hate myself.
because i can see what i'm doing and i want to stop, but i can't. and it makes me angry and it makes me cry and i feel like all day long everything makes me, makes me. i don't wanna get made. i wanna make myself.
but i'm hiding. again, always. hiding and hiding and not looking up until i feel a touch on my shoulder or a whispered, "hurry up, it's time."
i hate it.